The Bachelor
by TheSapphireSky
Summary: Undercover, Sherlock is looking for an attempted murderer on the set of an American TV show


This was by far Molly's least favourite case. Loathed it, in fact. Why had she even agreed to come?

Oh, right. Sherlock. And that stupid string that tied her heart to him. And tugged her across the ocean to this glamorous, shimmering city in the heart of the States.

Had she known that this case would involve her watching as the unrequited love of her life played a suave, charming bachelor eagerly trying to win the heart of a drop-dead gorgeous neuroscientist on American crap telly, she would have immediately taken the first train out of London when Sherlock came knocking. (Well, he didn't knock. He'd broken into her bedroom via the window and scared the living daylights out of her).

But she hadn't, so he did, and now she was on day twenty-two of her own personal hell.

"Molly, do stop scowling. It's frightening the locals."

She didn't flinch at his sudden appearance behind her or at the fake American accent. Instead, she buried her head in the clipboard and pretended to be busy making notes. "Go away, Scott. I'm busy."

Sherlock, aka "Scott", simply smirked and leaned against the wall beside her. His hair was dyed a light reddish brown and cut close to hide his curls. A little bit of makeup magic and his face was transformed from the famous, regal Detective, to a rounder, softer Accountant. "Too busy for a few minutes with the man favored to win?"

"Oh, Scottie!" Melinda, the buxom beauty, called over from her makeup chair. "Come sit with me for a bit, baby."

Sherlock hesitated and she could feel his eyes on her.

She didn't look up, simply pointed in the general direction of that bimbo with her pen, and snapped, "Don't keep her waiting, Scottie."

"It's only for another few hours; once we start filming the final episode, everything will be done and the attempted murderer will be unveiled." Was that an attempt at compassion?

Molly gripped her pen tightly and forced a smile, finally looking up at him. "Then don't be an idiot and blow you cover now."

Spinning on her heel, she strode away. This time tomorrow, she would be in the air, on her way home, where she would try to forget every second of this case. And every sweet word she'd had to hear Sherlock whisper into another woman's ear.

oOo

It took all her strength not to gag. Melinda, though a brilliant neuroscientist according to her resume (which Molly thought to be as padded as the woman's chest), was milking this live finale for every second. Why there would be any question between Sherlock/Scott and the other bachelor? Derek was a nice chap, but nothing about him could hold a candle to "Scott."

Molly sighed and readjusted her headset, listening simultaneously to the director and Melinda as she dragged out her speech.

"Derek, you're a sweet, gentle man, and I do love you," Melinda crooned with honey-thick sweetness. Molly felt a glimmer of hope and relief. But then the blonde smiled sadly. "But my heart belongs to Scott."

Well, there went that hope. Molly's stomach twisted and turned. She knew it was all pretend on Sherlock's part…mostly. But it just seemed so real! She fought down the urge to cry and clutched her clipboard to her chest.

The lights dimmed and Derek, heartbroken, silently left the stage area and was escorted to the "Heart"-Break Room. Leaving only Sherlock and Melinda.

The blonde turned her predatory gaze upon the last remaining bachelor and stepped into his space, handing him the gold chain that held a tiny gold key. "You own the key to my heart, Scott."

Sherlock looked down at the key in his hand. Several beats of silence passed, then he smiled. But it wasn't his fake, "Scott" smile. No, this was all Sherlock.

"Very nicely done," he drawled, dropping his voice to its natural register and abandoning that horrid American accent. "You are quite the actress, Melinda."

The blonde blanched and blinked up at him. A frown formed on her perfect face and she, for once, seemed a bit thrown. "What's going on? Scott, why are you speaking like that?"

Sherlock laughed mockingly. "The Key to your heart? Oh, we both know that key was given away long ago. Wasn't it, Gertrude?"

Melinda paled instantly. Forcing a laugh, she looked around at all the onlookers on the set and the still-rolling cameras, currently broadcasting into the homes of millions. "Oh, Scott, you're such a jokester!"

"Is attempted murder a joke?" Sherlock deadpanned. He lifted one eyebrow and gestured toward the sound booth. "Between you and Freddy there, your husband, you came up with a very nice little scheme. A bit over the top, in my opinion, but that's the criminal mind for you. You planned to marry yourself off to one of these wealthy, desperate-for-love bachelors, create the idea of this perfect couple, then after some time, six months to a year, you'd suddenly divorce. You'll have created false evidence of an abusive relationship, thereby securing you millions in the process. Only someone got a little suspicious, didn't they? Katie, your original makeup artist, she recognized you, didn't she? So you tried to have her killed."

"How dare you accuse me of any of this!" Melinda/Gertrude shouted; beads of sweat had formed on her temples and her eyes darted about looking for an escape. But Molly had been prepared and a team of police officers blocked every exit and several were already escorting her partner in crime out of the building in cuffs.

Sherlock smirked. "But Katie survived. And her great-aunt, who happens to be a dear friend of mine and my very tolerant landlady, asked for my assistance in protecting her and bringing her would-be killer to justice."

Gertrude, chest heaving as she breathed heavily, simply stared at him in horror. Then suddenly she darted away, toward the nearest exit, hindered by her form-fitting dress and high heels. Luckily, the nearest exit was right by Molly, who stuck out a leg. Gertrude fell like a sack of potatoes and immediately three police officers were there, pulling her to her feet and slapping cuffs on her.

"Who are you?!" She shouted over her shoulder as they dragged her away.

Sherlock smirked. "The name is Sherlock Holmes."

Molly smiled at that, relief flooding through her. It was over. He had solved the case, Katie was safe, and everything would go back to normal. Okay, so maybe she was a bit disappointed still. But seeing that woman in handcuffs was doing a lot to put Molly's spirits back up where they belong.

"What now?" One of the producers asked in the silence that followed. The cameras were still rolling and Molly suspected that, even without the expected romantic ending, this episode would go down with the highest ratings in the history of the show.

"Now?" Sherlock looked down at the key he still held in his hand, then suddenly glanced up and locked eyes with her. "Now we can have our happy ending."

Wide-eyed, she watched as he dropped the key and closed the distance between them with his long-legged stride, every camera turning to follow him. Her eyes were comically wide as she swallowed thickly and flushed bright red, clutching her clipboard even tighter. What was he doing? Did he mean them? If this was some sort of sick joke…

Her thoughts came to an abrupt halt the moment his hands cupped her face and he pressed his lips to hers. Warm and tender, his kiss was everything she'd ever wanted to hear from him, a promise and an apology, a prelude to something beautiful.

The clipboard clattered to the floor as she lifted herself on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him as close as she could.

Let the cameras roll. Let them watch. She was in his arms and nothing else mattered. Nothing.


End file.
